


Ad Astra

by arrow_in_your_heart



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Not Religious, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Writing, Blood and Violence, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, I'm Sorry, Miscarriage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Canon Compliant, Please Be careful, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, So is everyone, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, check chapter notes for tw, feyre is a sweetheart, no beta we die like the suriel, reader is traumatised, this is dark sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_in_your_heart/pseuds/arrow_in_your_heart
Summary: In a small city in the far east of rainy England, there lives a girl. A girl who wishes to be far, far away. She wishes so hard that the stars have no choice but to hear her.~A story of recovery, of healing, and of loving and learning to accept yourself.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR) & Reader, Azriel (ACoTaR)/Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> !not cannon compliant with ACOSF!  
> Updates weekly on Fridays :) (sometimes every other week idk have fun finding out)  
> Remember to check chapter notes for TWs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! this is my first ever fic outside of marvel, how exciting!  
> That being said, I haven't read this series in absolutely ages, so please ignore anything that doesn't seem quite right, it's bashed out from memory and I cba to properly draft oops just thought Az deserved some love <3  
> This chapter contains a suicide attempt and there are multiple chapters throughout which contain graphic descriptions of violence etc so please be sure to check the notes just in case! I'll put a TW on the bad chapters. Enjoy!

A warm light seeped from the window of the coffee shop, illuminating the pavement in a soft glow, casting away the grey of the rainy day.

You could hardly bare to look in the window. Hardly noticed the icy rain spitting against your face.

The barista inside was laughing at something a customer had said - he did that a lot, laughing. He used to laugh with you, he had a way of drawing smiles from everyone, could carry a conversation with a stranger as if they had known each other for years. He always would have a smile to spare for you when you used to frequent, or more recently, always would lend an ear or words of advice. There was a time a few long months ago when you’d wish he’d smile at you differently, you’d crave the sound of his laugh and the glint in his eye when you’d tell him about your latest night out at uni, the way he could make your cheeks ache and throat sting from laughter.

You didn’t think you could laugh anymore. Certainly couldn’t remember the last time you did.

Someone walked passed you and into the coffee shop, the door opening with a hollow ding as they shook off their umbrella and called a cheery hello to the owners. You turned and started walking down the street before they could see you.

The main bustle from lunch had died down and the streets were fairly empty, the few who were still out ran around with umbrellas and hoods up, frantic to escape the late winter chill.

You didn’t notice this, however, as you drifted listlessly down the familiar roads and alleyways. Didn’t notice the stinging of the sleet against your cheek or the throbbing numbness of your hands. Didn’t much care about them.

Most of the walk back was a blur, the route so engrained in you that your mind could wander wherever while your body did most of the work, so the next thing you really knew, you were unlocking your front door. You shut it and leaned with your back against it, and slid down until you sat on the floor.

You were so, so tired.

You glanced down to the small pile of letters accumulating next to where you sat, and the thought of opening them filled you with enough dread and exhaustion to chase you from the floor, into the tiny kitchen. You put the small bag you carried with you everywhere on a table which was pushed against a wall, under the only window in the room. The window that now rattled as wind and sleet battered against it. You hated this ramshackle little apartment. Hated it with everything you had left. It didn’t matter that it had a useful closeness to the city centre, or that it was all you could find at such a short notice, it could never be your home. Your home was about a 40 minute drive away.

You didn’t think you could ever go back to that home again.

You had been staring out the window long enough that your eyes burned. You let them burn for a bit longer. You think a tear fell down your cheek. You tore your eyes away and turned to face the mess of the room. You tried to focus long enough to see if you were hungry, but bone deep weariness sent you plodding down the hall to your room. You picked your way over the laundry that littered the floor, a mix of clean and dirty, that you had kept promising yourself you’d sort out tomorrow. Tomorrow never came and now you didn’t bother pretending. You checked your phone - one spam email from the uni, one person going live on Instagram 20 minutes ago, and one text message. You saw who sent the message and guilt sent a wave of nausea crashing through you. You couldn’t bring yourself to open it, but read the notification still.

 **_Lynn (Bri’s mum)_ ** _: hello, just checking in. Don’t worry about coming to the…_

Don’t worry about coming - to what? You didn’t blame them for not wanting you there. Didn’t blame them if they blamed you for what happened, even you blamed yourself. How could they not?

You shut your eyes and let your phone fall from your hand, not bothering to plug it in to charge. You don’t know what you dreamed about. Didn’t want to remember.

Didn’t really want to wake up, either.

~

You did wake up, though you weren’t entirely sure how long later. You phone had died sometime while you slept so you had plugged it in before trudging though to the kitchen. Now you were sat at the small table, your bag still where you had left it, and you stared at nothing. The walk to the coffee shop yesterday had worn you out so thoroughly it might’ve worried you at one point, but now you were just too tired to care.

The rest of the day was spent alternating sitting at the table, or the small couch in the other corner of the room, or your bed, either staring at nothing or at your phone. You still couldn’t bring yourself to open the message, so you didn’t. You’d occasionally read the notification - you weren’t sure why. Perhaps to make you feel bad about not opening it. Perhaps for the other guilt it sent surging through you every time. You deserved it, after all. Deserved nothing more than to feel that guilt for the rest of your miserable life.

You went back to bed with the thought singing in your ears.

~

The next few days passed in much the same way, though you weren’t certain how many. Your meals weren’t exactly solid markers of time - when hunger would drive you from your bed you’d perhaps have a bowl of cereal, some toast, or a breakfast bar, and maybe a glass of water, and left it at that. A small part of your brain nagged that this wasn’t enough, and that same part was the part telling you to get a job. Not that it’d do much good - uni would be starting classes again in a few days time, and you would never be able to keep a job, anyway. The thought of uni starting lit an ember of panic in your stomach, probably the strongest emotion other than guilt you could remember feeling since you broke up for the Christmas holiday back in December. You buried the thought. You really couldn’t imagine going back - couldn’t imagine anything worse, really. So many people who’d all try to ask you how you’ve been, how things have been going since _you know what_ happened, how you’ve been coping. So many people oblivious to how you wanted to cry and scream at them until they’d just stop asking, so many people who just didn’t seem to understand that you would never be ok ever again, you weren’t coping, you can’t cope.

Tears were streaming down your face.

No, you wouldn’t go back.

You knew they wouldn’t miss you - you didn’t exactly contribute to classes, you could barely hand in work on time and the professors wouldn’t miss your face among so many other brighter ones. Students wouldn’t miss one extra empty seat. You had been considering dropping out a few months ago anyway - really didn’t know why you hadn’t in the end. That didn’t matter now - you’d do it tomorrow.

That little voice of reason had finally shut up.

You just went back to bed.

~

The realisation had been nibbling at the corners of your mind for a while.

_No one would miss you._

You had no one left to miss you. Everyone you had ever cared for had been ripped from you, and you only had yourself to blame.

It clashed around your head day and night - guilty. You were guilty.

_Guilty._

You made up your mind.

And you felt you could smile for the first time in weeks.

~

The air was cold as you left the house; not bone chilling, but crisp and bracing. The rain had finally eased at some point in the week. You were glad for your jacket, it was your favourite - worn on the last night out you had with Bri, before-

You shook your head to clear the thought. The jacket was a comforting presence. And you didn’t need to dwell; you were going to see her soon enough.

It was evening turning to night, and the stars had long been visible in the January sky. There were few cars out, and the numbers would only dwindle - the sudden dryness would allow snows to settle, and the people in your little city in the east of England hated nothing more than driving through snow. The heavy clouds gathering on the horizon seemed to indicate the same. Snow was on its way.

But you were blind it it all: blind to the cars, blind to the clouds promising snow, blind to the trees illuminated orange by the streetlights. You had eyes only for the stars as you let your legs carry you along the familiar roads and pavements.

You had always liked the night sky. The stars in particular always seemed to hold so much promise, like you could drift up to them and just start over.

You shrugged your bag tighter over your shoulder. It wasn’t necessary having it with you, you knew that, but it was a comfort nonetheless. It held everything you would never leave the house without: your phone - locked and tucked in an inside pocket, a portable charger, lip balm, your water bottle, a few hairbands, and some loose change, but it also held some things you didn’t have a real reason for needing. Your favourite book, Bri’s favourite lipgloss, a picture of your family, your notebook, and a pencil. It felt mundane - you could be walking anywhere, to do anything, it felt normal. You felt calm. More calm than you should.

You reached a bridge. The bridge.

As far as bridges go, it was rather nondescript; the pavement on one side bordered with a chest-height white railing, allowing a view of the river. Upstream, you think.

You paused, and leant against it. Looked up at the stars. It took your breath away.

Despite the light pollution, the stars were more visible than you could ever remember. God, it filled you with such emotion. You couldn’t even place the feeling, couldn’t identify it beyond an all encompassing longing, a want, a yearning for something. You didn’t know what, just want for something. You felt tears pricking your eyes, and felt filled with such euphoria you haven’t in months. It frustrated you, the most emotion you had felt in weeks, months, brought on by one clear night.

But it wasn’t just the clear evening, you knew that. You could almost feel Bri at your side, shoulder brushing yours. Could almost feel your parents gazing at the back of your head. Could almost feel your brother punch your arm with a laugh - laughing always came easy with him.

Almost, not quite.

A car drove past, but didn’t slow. The breeze it kicked up rustled your hair and sent goosebumps across your arms. You felt a nagging in the back of your mind, a small tugging beyond the sudden surge of emotion. One you haven’t felt since before your life went to shit.

You’d say it surprised you, but you weren’t entirely sure you had it in you to be surprised.

You swung your bag from your shoulder onto your elbow, and let it dangle there while you reached in and pulled out your notebook and pencil. You leant against the railing and put pencil to paper.

You let your hand lead you, and poured every inch of emotion you had left into the page. You think you might’ve cried. You emptied every bit of longing you felt, every bit of you that loved the stars and their hope. Every piece of you that yearned and dreamed and hoped, which still clung to your bones despite everything. You shed it all like a second skin, and could only watch as a sigil formed.

It wasn’t the neatest sigil you had ever made by any means, but it did the job. You tore the paper from the notebook which you shoved back in the bag with your pencil, and hoisted back over your shoulder. The paper you stared at a while longer. At the inscription that had wormed its way underneath.

_The stars will take me to you. The stars will keep me safe._

You didn’t need to add Briana by name. Or your family.

You folded the paper, and felt utterly spent. The movements felt mechanic. Methodological.

You placed a kiss on one side. Squeezed your eyes shut and wished.

Wished on the stars, and smiled faintly.

You put the paper in your jacket pocket.

You climbed the railing.

You took a deep breath. Closed your eyes

And you jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! The first few chapters are slightly shorter while I'm figuring out the voice of the story, they get slightly longer around chapter 4. Not sure when I'll post the next chapter, I already have it written so hopefully soon!  
> Hope you have a lovely day, see you around - arrow xx


	2. Chapter 2

You jumped.

You jumped, and you felt a rush of vertigo course through you like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

You jumped, but your feet never left the ground. Or the railing, or whatever.

You weren’t in Norwich anymore, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that. The chilled January air was now soft, balmy. The smell of the river and road replaced with a rather fragrant floral one. The general noise of a city had gone, replaced with what sounded like laughter from behind a wall.

When you opened your eyes at last it confirmed your suspicions.

You were in heaven.

You were standing on a balcony of red stone, gazing out over a mountain range. It was night, yet you could see clearly enough; the stars illuminated everything perfectly.

Oh, the stars, you could stare at them forever. Even when living in the countryside you had never seen them so clearly, they seemed so close you almost believed you could reach and touch one. Bring some starlight down to keep in your pocket. Far below, more lights shone - a reflection of the stars down on earth.

It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

A worry nagged at you, drawing you back to the present situation.

Heaven. You weren’t religious.

And you certainly didn’t deserve heaven, anyway.

Was this like a waiting room? You weren’t really sure you believed in anything after death, had more just hoped that you’d be with your family and Bri again. Perhaps this was somewhere you could stay, or perhaps you’d be sent somewhere else. You found you didn’t mind either option. The sight ahead of you was a good sight if it was the last you ever had.

The laughter you had heard floated closer, sounding from multiple people. Bodies. It was a light sound, graceful and beautiful in a way you weren’t sure people could make.

You weren’t sure about a lot right now, you had never been fantastic in new situations.

It came to an abrupt stop, and you found yourself missing it. The only sound became the soft whistling of wind over the mountain tops. You thought you heard a faint brush from behind you, as delicate as a thrush taking off, but you didn’t make yourself look away from the mountains. You didn’t think anything could.

Until a voice came from behind you, and your head felt weird.

“Who are you.”

It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t sound friendly. Was this a test? Angels, perhaps, to see if you were worthy?

You turned, and felt your jaw drop.

If they were angels, they were unlike anything you had pictured. Only three of them had wings, and they weren’t the white feathery kind.

If they were angels, though, you could well believe it.

They were the most perfect group of beings you had ever seen. They stood with unnatural stillness, each of them tall and powerful. They had odd clothes on - you could tell it was all finely made, but it was just... odd. A clash of casual and formal in a foreign style.

If they really were angels, you didn’t think they were the friendly kind.

Two of them, the two males with wings, held vicious looking swords. A voice in the back of your head made a comparison to Paradise Lost, you were sure to you old English teacher’s delight, though you couldn’t quite remember the reference. The other three stood without weapons, but it felt like the eyes of two of them, the other male and the golden-brown haired woman, pierced straight to your soul. You could feel the sharp gaze of all of them weighing, judging, assessing you.

You weren’t sure how to answer the question, wasn’t even sure who asked it. Would they know you by name? Was there some kind of waiting list you just cut to the front of?

Instead, you asked the most pressing question.

“Am I dead?” Ok, perhaps it was an obvious one.You didn’t feel dead, but nothing else made sense.

“How did you get in here.” The tall, dark-haired male spoke, the one without wings. It was soft, but seemed to echo in your head as clearly as it did around the balcony, and held an edge so terrifyingly dangerous you decided not to dwell on it.

You frowned, “So, I _am_ dead? Is this the afterlife? Or Heaven? I’m not religious, I’m afraid, if that’s what you mean. I mean, I tried to stick to my morals, though, if that makes a difference.” You were blabbering, you knew that. You were trying not to panic. The scary angels didn’t seem to be expecting you.

A few glances exchanged between them, you caught a furrowed brow and a small shake of a head, before they turned back to you.

“You aren’t dead. Do you know where you are?” The darker-haired woman spoke, she had wings like the two men with the swords.

You couldn’t stop the small laugh that left your mouth, “of course I’m dead, I jum— I died, this must be the afterlife because I’m dead. You have wings, for god’s sake. That’s impossible, unless you’re angels and this is the afterlife.” You paused as another horrible thought occurred to you. “Unless I’m in a coma? Is this a dream? That would make more sense I suppose. Or am I just hallucinating this? Oh, god, have I gone insane?”

Another glance between them, before the wingless man spoke again. He and the winged lady seemed to be in charge. “This is real,” he began. They all watched your reaction with intensity, “you aren’t dead, nor are you hallucinating or dreaming. I’m asking you how you got here.”

A sudden frustration caught you by surprise, and the emotion felt almost rusty - as if out of practice. “I don’t know how I got here. I looked at the stars and I jumped, except I didn’t jump and I landed here. But it wasn’t a landing because my feet never left the ground. So I don’t know.” You pulled the sleeves of your jumper over your hands, fiddling with the cuffs slightly.

You weren’t sure you believed them, weren’t sure you wanted to. Perhaps this was still a test, and if you answered correctly you could see your family and Bri.

A moment passed. Two. The winged lady sighed but didn’t look away from you, instead she managed to catch your eye with hers and you didn’t think she seemed too happy with what she saw. “She’s telling the truth, she’s confused and tired. I don’t think she’s dangerous.”

Dangerous? Why on earth would you be dangerous? They were angels with fucking swords, you hardly thought you’d be the dangerous one here.

The wingless man looked at you a second longer. His eyes narrowed slightly and you could swear you felt something in your brain, but he eventually looked to the winged lady and nodded.

“You’re right. You can put away the weapons ,” he spoke to the not-quite-angels, “i don’t think she likes them.”

You couldn’t pretend you weren’t slightly relieved when they put the swords away, even if they were for guarding the afterlife or whatever. Glad you didn’t have to voice discomfort, it was like wingless man had read your mind.

He and the lady both looked to you as you thought that, the man with a raised eyebrow.

Oh. Well, isn’t that fun.

The world tilted, them came rushing up to meet you.

~

You came too perhaps a few seconds later, still on the floor. The lady was knelt beside you with the back of her hand on your forehead. The man stood closely behind her, watching you with eyes you were sure missed nothing. Can you faint when you’re dead?

You noticed the lady’s ears. Pointed. A glance at the man showed the same, as did the glimpse of the blonde woman from over the winged lady’s shoulder. You couldn’t see the other men from your position.

“If you aren’t Angels, are you elves?” You weren’t sure why you asked, but the blonde could certainly pass for a Lothlorian elf.

The lady removed the hand from you forehead and shook her head, “not… elves. Fae.” She stood with more grace than you could muster in a lifetime, and offered you a hand up. You took it, rising with more difficulty than you’d care to admit. You distantly didn’t think you’d feel this bad if you were dead. The lady continued, “My name is Feyre. This is my husband Rhysand, and our friends Morrigan, Cassian, and Azriel.”

The names, while unusual, sounded as if they could have biblical connotations. Cassian and Azriel, at least. You suddenly wished you had paid more attention in R.S as a child. Her husband nodded as he was introduced. You didn’t want to think about the mind-reading thing, that was too much. She gestured to the three scary looking ‘fae’ behind her. The blonde - Morrigan, apparently, offered an easy smile that didn’t seem that easy. Out of any of them she looked the most like she could be an angel. The other two, Cassian and Azriel (you weren’t sure which was which) no longer held weapons, but they were looking at you intently, watching your every move and keeping the hilts of the swords within reach. They had gems on their hands, one had red and the other blue. You looked them in the face. The one with red gems flashed a grin, though it seemed almost a challenge. The one with blue gems didn’t smile, simply watched you. The air seemed to darken around him, and you were sure shadows weren’t supposed to move like that.

Yep, you were dead. But they definitely weren’t angels.

Your attention caught on their wings, and while they weren’t heavenly in the traditional sense, they had a raw beauty about them. Clearly powerful, they tapered in sharp points over each shoulder.

The one with red flexed them, the one with blue still watched you.

A gentle voice - Feyre’s - took your attention back to her. “What is your name?”

You tore your gaze from the wings, and had intended to look at hers to see if they were the same, but when you looked it was as if they had vanished into thin air.

You opened your mouth to try and answer, but no sound came out. You were confused. So, so confused. Confused about where you were, confused about these people, confused about the disappearing wings confused about why you didn’t feel like you were dead. Confused about why you weren’t with Bri.

You managed to croak your name, and you could feel panic swirling in the pit of your stomach again. In saying your name to them it seemed to cement everything: You were here, in an unknown place, with unknown people, and no way of knowing how to get home.

Feyre, now decidedly wingless, took a step towards you. “well, (y/n), I can tell you’re exhausted. I’ll show you to a room you can stay for tonight, and in the morning when we’re all rested we can look at getting you home. Is that alright with you?”

Your jaw refused to open, but you gave what could be considered a nod. This was starting to feel like it may not be a test.

You were distantly aware of her saying something else, you think to the others, and someone said something back, but you couldn’t focus on the words. A hand on your elbow made you jump, but followed as Feyre led you away from the balcony, and through some doors.

You distantly wondered if they’d kill you, if you weren’t actually dead.

Feyre seemed tense but calm as she took you don’t some stairs, and turned left down a hallway. She could be leading you anywhere, you would be none the wiser for it.

She came to a stop at one door, and let go of your elbow to push it open. She stepped aside and gestured for you to go ahead, and after a couple of seconds you managed to get your feet to work enough to carry you inside.

Feyre stood in the doorway, watching you as you took in the room. It was nice. More than nice, incredible, really. A large, soft looking bed sat against the wall on the left, next to it a door you assumed lead to a bathroom. The wall opposite had the window - windows, lack thereof. There was no glass, and the billowy pale curtains floated against an intangible breeze. You could see Mountains, and you could see stars.

Feyre cleared her throat from behind you, you turned to see her watching you closely.“Someone will wake you for breakfast, so don’t panic if you hear a knock at the door. The door over there leads to your bathing chamber, and there are some night clothes in the closet you can change into, if you wish.” You nodded, though put no meaning behind it. She continued, “If you need anything you can either call, or come and find me, or one of the others. Will you be alright?”

The question caught you off guard a little, but you nodded again, meaning it no more than the first one.

Her lips pursed slightly, but she returned your nod. “Ok, I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, (y/n).”

You said nothing as she left, simply stared at the space her head had been. You tried to shake your head, clear your thoughts enough to get ready to sleep, but there was just too much happening. You walked to the window, and looked at the stars.

“Why am I here?” You whispered. The stars made no answer. You did, however, realise with a small start that your bag was still on one shoulder. And your jacket pocket was still clasped shut. You opened it, and took out the folded sigil. It can’t have been 30 minutes since you scribbled it on the bridge, but it felt so far away it was like a distant memory. You looked at the inscription.

_The stars will keep me safe. The stars will take me to you._

You froze. Looked at the stars again. They looked right back.

“You brought me here? Why?” Silence.

You sank to the floor by the window. You didn’t want to look at the stars, they weren’t the same.

You stared at the sigil instead.

And you stayed there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed chapter two!!! Honestly I'm not too sure about this one and I might rewrite it at some point - I also came up with a slightly different direction this could have taken as I was editing this so perhaps I'll go back and write an AU for this one day lol.  
> We finally see Az yeet! he'll get more attention later I promise, though be warned - when I say slow burn I mean slooooow - I have a whole ass trilogy of fics planned for this romance >:)  
> Thank you for reading, and as always, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged! have a lovely day, I'll see you again soon :)  
> \- arrow xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Feyre's POV. Possible trigger warning for eating disorders - mentions of how thin y/n looks.

Feyre was worried, and exhausted.

And very, very confused.

Her footsteps were her only company walking down the hallway, the very same hallway she had walked down when her sisters had stayed here. After… after the throne room.

Despite everything, she couldn’t suppress a smile as she passed the door to Elain and Nesta’s old room.

_Someone’s in a remarkably good mood this morning._

Feyre chuckled. _No thanks to you._

A pause.

_Do you want me to go in with you?_

_I think I can handle it, thanks._ She responded drily down the mating bond to her husband. Mate. Overprotective Illyrian baby.

 _I heard that_ , a warm laugh filtered through the link. _I know you can handle it. I trust you._

She smiled again but didn’t respond, didn’t need to. Her smile faded as she neared the door.

Cerridwen and Nuala met her outside.

“Is she alright?” She couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice.

“She sat in the exact same spot all night.”

“Hasn’t moved an inch.”

Feyre frowned, but nodded. “Thank you. I’ll help her get ready, you two can go.”

They nodded, and vanished. Reporting to Azriel no doubt.

She was grateful the spy master had offered them, though knew he’d watch her himself had he the chance. Her thoughts drifted to last night’s conversation before she could stop them.

~

_Feyre walked back to the others, still stood exactly as she had left them._

_She walked over to Rhys, taking his arm. He stood stony faced, deep in thought._

_She shot a gentle nudge of comfort down the bond, he didn’t reciprocate._

_“How the hell did she get in?” Cassian’s growl sounded from her left._

_“I have no idea.” Her husband spoke softly, dangerously. “And neither does she.”_

_“She was telling the truth?” Az hadn’t yet moved his hand from the hilt of his blade._

_“We both looked inside her mind, it was wide open. She wasn’t lying.” Feyre’s brow furrowed. “It was muffled, though. All her thoughts. It was as if they were obscured by clouds, or cotton.” She glanced at Rhys, who nodded in confirmation. “She’s tired, and hurting a lot. And I think as confused as we are.”_

_The High Lord sighed. “Now we just need to figure out where the hell she came from.”_

_“You saw her clothes, she definitely isn’t from Prythian. I didn’t recognise her accent, either.” Mor leaned against the wall, eyes distant as her mind worked._

_“Neither did I. Nor is she from the continent, That much is clear.”_

_“We can ask her in the morning.” Feyre’s tone made it clear there was no room for argument._

_Cassian frowned, but made no outward complaint._

_“i’ll have Cerridwen and Nuala keep an eye on her and report back to me first thing.” Az said. He didn’t need to say it - it wouldn’t have been a surprise._

_Rhys nodded nonetheless. “Thank you. Let me know the second you hear anything. I don’t want to take any chances. Cassian, you can help me make sure the wards around here are still stable, we don’t want anything else coming through.”_

_The boys nodded, but Feyre spoke before anyone could move._

_“I’m going to check on her first thing tomorrow.”_

_Rhys sighed, “we can’t take any risks, especially not with you-“_

_“I’m worried about her.” Feyre’s words were quiet as she didn’t let him finish the sentence. No one said anything. “You looked into the same mind I did. She’s hurting. I can recognise easily enough the look in her eyes from my own experiences. I don’t want her to go through this by herself.”_

_Mor said softly, “She was convinced she was dead, said she jumped. Do you think she-“_

_“Yes, I do.”_

_Silence devoured a second, two, until Rhys ran a hand over his face. “While I don’t like what this says about our security, you’re right. She can at least stay here until we figure out where she came from. Keep in mind that she knows us about as well as we know her - she may not want or accept our help at all.”_

_“I know,” Feyre said simply, “but I still want to offer it.”_

_Mor nodded in agreement, “we’ll help in any way we can.”_

_“I’ll see if any of my connections know anything that might help us in terms of where she’s from, or if they’ve seen anything like this before.” Azriel looked to Feyre as he spoke, and Feyre saw understanding deep in his eyes. She wondered not for the first time just_ how _deeply he understood. She nodded her thanks._

_Cassian clapped her on the back, “If anyone can figure her out, its you.” She returned his grin, and he turned to Rhys. “I’ll start scouting the borders,but you owe me a hell of a lie in tomorrow.”_

_Rhys laughed as Cassian took off jogging, “luckily for you, I’m a merciful High Lord.” He shot a wink at Feyre, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead._ I love you, I trust you.

 _She cupped his face and returned the kiss to his lips._ And I you.

_His eyes said everything that remained unspoken, and he leant to place a kiss to her swollen stomach before turning and pacing after Cassian. Feyre turned back to Mor and Azriel, only to find Az already gone and Mor looking at her in mock disgust._

_“Gross.”_

_Feyre laughed, and hooked Mor’s arm with her own as she headed inside, “you secretly love it.”_

_She didn’t need to see Mor’s face as she heard the reply, “I can assure you, I do not.”_

_“i’m going to stay here tonight, I think. Just in case.” They reached a couch, and sunk onto it. Mor nodded._

_“Do you want me to stay with you?”_

_Feyre flashed a grateful smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want, I don’t want to keep you from anything.”_

_“The only thing you’d be keeping me from is a pile of paperwork and another bottle of wine. I think a sleepover is a much better idea.”_

_“Me, too. Besides, you don’t look nearly as intimidating as any of the boys, breakfast might be easier for her if it’s just us girls.”_

_“I’m inclined to agree, there’s nothing worse than Cassian’s face before you’ve even eaten.” They both laughed, though Feyre felt her face fall sooner than she’d like._

_Mor softened and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “don’t worry about it, whoever she is, I’m sure she’ll be ok. Tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get her home.”_

_Feyre nodded, grateful for her friend. It didn’t stop the nagging worry at the back of her mind - the girl had so clearly tried to leave her world, what if she didn’t want to go back?_

_~_

She shook her head to clear it, and knocked on the door.

Silence, no sound of anyone stirring.

Swallowing back panic, she knocked again before trying the door. It was unlocked.

Easing it open softly, she poked her head into the room.

“(y/n?) how are you feeling this morning?”

The distinct lack of response and her growing panic forced her into the room, though her fear died as she caught sight of the girl sat under the window, exactly as the half-wraiths had said.

Feyre let her feet fall more heavily than they needed, to see if that would prompt a reaction, but none came. She made her way across the room until she reached the window, where she knelt in front of the girl. She noted the paper she was clutching, though couldn’t make anything of it outside of a few shapes and swirls.

“(y/n), would you like a bath?”

The girl made no answer, but at last seemed to realise Feyre was there. She tore her eyes from the page, and looked around the room slowly, only to land on Feyre’s stomach.

“You’re pregnant.” She rasped, more an observation than a question. Feyre nodded and gave a small smile, and felt her heart drop as she just looked back down at the paper.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” Feyre gently prised the paper from her grip and placed it on the window sill. Taking the girls hand’s in her own, she brought them both up to standing and led her towards the bathing chamber.

She let go of her hands when they reached the doorway, and she went to run a hot bath while the girl simply stood and watched.

“You can change in there if you’d like some privacy, there’s a robe on the back of the door.”

She didn’t even nod as she slowly stepped back and closed the door. Feyre sighed and massaged her temples, then added some bubbling soaps into the water to better obscure it and let the girl retain perhaps some dignity. The door opened again a few moments later, and (y/n) walked in, clutching the soft robe around herself. Feyre checked the depth and temperature of the water, and, satisfied, turned around to let the girl climb into the bath.

When the disturbed water quietened, she turned to help, and her breath caught in her throat.

She was thin, painfully so. Her skin seemed stretched around her spine and ribs, and her shoulder blades jutted out into nothing. A pang of empathy tore through her as she made her way across to a basket that held a bath sponge, though she was determined not to let her emotion show.

She sat, and helped bathe the girl, who said nothing and kept her eyes fixed on the water in front of her.

 _I’m inviting her to breakfast._ She sent the thought down the link to Rhys, but didn’t show the mental image of her back. No one else needed to see it, and she thought perhaps she was taking it personally. She knew all too well how it felt.

 _Of course you are._ It was a gentle teasing, no real barb in it. Nothing to discourage her, either.

Starting soft ministrations on her hair, Feyre let her voice remain as light as possible.

“I’d like you to come and sit with me at breakfast this morning, if you will,” she refrained from asking when the last time she ate was, asking instead a simple “Are you hungry?”

Nothing but an absent nod. That was a start, at least.

It nearly made Feyre jump when, after a few moments, the girl spoke.

“This isn’t death, is it. I’m not dead.”

Feyre felt her heart clench. “No, you’re not.”

She nodded, as if it no longer surprised her. “If this were the afterlife I don’t think I’d need to eat, or anything.” A small pause. “I don’t think you’d be pregnant either.” Feyre didn’t know how to respond, but before she could the girl raised one hand out of the water, and dug the nail of her index finger into her thumb. “I could be dreaming, but I don’t think this would hurt so much if I was.”

Feyre took her hand and sunk it back into the water as gently as she could. “No, it probably wouldn’t.” They were both silent for a moment more as Feyre finished rinsing her hair.

“You can eat and rest here, then we can look at getting you home, if you’d like.” Again, no response but a nod. Feyre stood, and reached for her robe. She held it out and averted her eyes as the girl climbed from the bath.

Robe secure, Feyre led the way to the main room, and gestured to the closet as she headed for the door. “You can choose any of the clothes, they should all fit you well enough. I’ll wait for you outside and we’ll head to breakfast, does that sound okay?” Another nod.

Feyre hesitated, but gave a smile as bright as she could muster and quietly shut the door on her way out. Leaning against the opposite wall, she offered a small prayer to whatever gods were listening, and had no choice but to blame the tear that fell on pregnancy hormones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Feyre's pregnant!!! Eeeeep!!!! Thank you for reading chapter 3! Hope you enjoyed it, I know it's super short but the next chapter is like 6,000 words to make up for it lol. I think I'll probably have that chapter up this time next week - might try and make this a regular schedule! definitely won't be able to keep it past a couple of weeks but worth a try lmaoo  
> We really get into the swing of the story in the next chapter, so keep an eye open for that ;) once again any and all constructive criticism is welcome! I hope you have a lovely day, I'll see you soon :) - arrow xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Since my last update A Court Of Silver Flames was released… I am halfway through it and ohoooooo boy😳 this is just a quick note to say this will be a completely spoiler-free zone, and this work is not cannon compliant with the story. Just imagine that didn’t happen idk anyways I hope you enjoy! This one’s quite a long chapter to tide you guys over because i haven’t actually written the next one yet lol  
> Trigger warnings for this chapter include mentions / descriptions of suicide attempt and mildly suicidal thoughts.

Feeling cleaner than you had in a long while, you stood and stared at the open closet.

You hated closets.

You pulled a random matching set folded on a shelf and slammed the door, not wanting to spend any more time looking inside.

The clothes were odd, but damn, if they weren’t the most comfortable things you’ve ever worn. Long, baggy sleeves bunched the the wrist and ankles, the soft grey fabric felt like a warm hug. You thought they could’ve been pyjamas with how comfortable they were, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You slipped your own socks on, finding them where you left them in a pile next to the bed. Didn’t bother with shoes.

You left your hair as it was, drying in a mess down your back, but just as you turned to follow Feyre to breakfast, something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

There, still on the window sill, your sigil. You hurried over and shoved it in your bag, which you left on a chair with your jacket.

You opened the door to Feyre standing leaning against the wall opposite, and noticed she wore similar to you but in a rich dark blue.

She looked you over and nodded with a small chuckle, “Amren would approve.”

You didn’t know who Amren was. Didn’t much care.

Feyre took your arm and led you down the hallway, and you felt autopilot take over as your legs moved yet your brain wandered elsewhere.

You truly couldn’t figure out if you were dreaming or not, and were only just starting to realise that you may not actually be dead.

Its not that everything was too vivid to be a dream - almost the opposite; everything in your life had been muted and dull for months, and yet in dreams everything was always so loud and confusing. This was confusing alright, but it still felt exactly what home had felt like - like you were just watching your life play out on a crappy 2D cinema screen and you could only sit and pretend to be interested. You’d given up trying to figure out what would come next, or reacting to things as they happened, a long time ago.

You realised truly for the first time that this might not be death when you undressed, and saw yourself. Sure, you had lost weight the last few months, but you never thought the scar would still be there in death. You had the faint sense to be grateful when Feyre turned to let you keep you modesty in the bath, you really didn’t want to have to explain that.

And then Feyre being pregnant… no, you didn’t want to dwell on that. That would be too cruel for Heaven, and you didn’t think nice ladies helped you bathe in Hell. You wondered faintly if you should be embarrassed by that.

No, you weren’t dead.

You could be insane, or hallucinating, but something told you that wasn’t the case. Looking at the stars last night, and the sigil, you had been so sure that this was their doing; that they had granted your wish in some twisted way of their own. Logically, you knew that this was impossible - magical worlds with fairies and wings and moving shadows simply do not exist.

But you couldn’t find another explanation.

You snapped back as Feyre let go of your arm and moved to sit at the table which you were now stood in front of, and she gestured for you to do the same. You slumped in the nearest seat which was next to Feyre, who had claimed the one next to the head of the table. You only realised as you sat how winded climbing the stairs had left you.

You were in the room you had walked through yesterday, and a glance to your side showed big glass doors and billowing curtains, through which you spied the balcony. You turned quickly back to the table.

Feyre began to pile various fruits and pastries onto her plate, you followed suit with a few which seemed familiar. A couple of the fruits you didn’t recognise, and the pastries were shaped weirdly, but everything seemed more or less like home. You picked at the corner of one pastry which tasted like a croissant. Like a croissant, yet so, so much better. Magical. Some distant thought nagged in the back of your head about not eating fairy food, but you paid it no heed. You hadn’t yet convinced yourself that they actually were what they said.

The silence stretched for a few moments, and weary as you were, even you noted how awkward you felt, and wondered if Feyre was feeling the same. Back home you’d be scrambling for something to say to stave off the quiet, now, however, you found you couldn’t bring yourself to care for it.

“Is the food to your liking?”

You realised you were staring at your plate, so you nodded as you brought another piece to your mouth. Your tongue felt wrapped in wool.

“Is it much different to food where you come from?”

A deviation from your usual nodding to shake your head this time. “Similar.” You managed to grate out, throat painfully dry.

“Do you miss it?” Simple curiosity disguised something under the words - a carefulness you couldn’t place. Didn’t try to.

You nod was hesitant this time.

Feyre seemed to consider the next words before she spoke them, “I know this must all seem strange to you, I’m not- I don’t know what your lands are like, how different they are—“ a small breath, “—but if there’s anything I can do to help make it seem less strange, in anyway, please, just let me know. I’ll do what I can.”

You, curse you, just nodded again, slightly taken aback. Had no response come easily. You forced one anyway. A quiet, meek line - the only one you could think of. “I’m sorry I don’t say much. Thank you for… thank you for helping me.”

Feyre pursed her lips, but didn’t respond immediately. After a moment she leaned forward and filled a cup with what looked to be tea, and pushed it towards you.

“You don’t need to say anything, if you don’t want. No one here is going to make you. Same with anything you’re uncomfortable with, you have my word on that.” She passed you some milk for the tea. “I’ve been in a similar situation before. It was a few years ago now, but I remember, and I understand. You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

You managed a faint smile this time. You weren’t sure it reached your eyes, but it stayed longer than the last. You offered it to Feyre, who smiled back.

You sipped your tea and sat in a more comfortable silence after that. You weren’t quite relaxed - didn’t think that was possible anymore - but you didn’t feel a burning self-consciousness or pressure to make conversation, and for that you were grateful.

The quiet, steady companionship was halted when Feyre sat upright, as if a thought had just occurred to her.

“Mor should be down in a minute, do you mind if she joins us? I think you’d like her.”

You looked at Feyre, and nodded. The blonde one, if you remembered correctly. The one who could be an angel. Though she didn’t have wings.

Wings - the thought occurred to you suddenly. You were sure at some point last night Feyre had wings, yet she obviously didn’t now, Did you imagine that?

“Where did—“ your voice croaked, so you cleared it and tried again, “Didn’t you have wings last night?” Feyre didn’t seem to mind that your voice didn’t want to work, and her eyes lit up when you spoke.

“I did, you’re right. I can summon them as I please, though I feel as though I’m only just properly getting the hang of them. I only found out I could summon them a few years ago.”

“Gods, is she talking about her wings again? You must be bored out of your mind, poor thing.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a smile and turned to greet the newcomer. Morrigan - Mor, apparently. She gave a dazzling grin as she sat at the head of the table where she could see both you and Feyre.

Feyre gestured towards each of you, “(y/n), this is Mor. Mor, (y/n).”

Mor nodded in greeting, smile never faltering. “It’s lovely to meet you properly. Its nice having new people to talk to around here, these guys get old so quickly.”

“Hey!” Feyre protested with mock indignation. “You’d miss us if were weren’t always around each other.”

“True, true.” She laughed, an easy, light sound. She turned back towards you, and looked at what you were wearing approvingly. “Your clothes look so comfortable, I’m rather jealous. Amren would like them.”

You looked down at the soft grey fabric, had forgotten what you were wearing for a moment. You looked back up and nodded. This was the second time Amren had been mentioned, both in regards to your outfit, and you couldn’t find it in you to ask about her. No one had volunteered information yet. You looked at what Mor was wearing, and forced your throat to work.

“Yours look nice, too. The red suits you.”

Mor beamed, “thank you! It does, doesn’t it. I don’t think they’re quite as soft as yours, I might have to go and get some like that later.”

You tried a faint smile and nodded, not knowing quite how to respond. The smile didn’t stick for very long. Feyre reached over and poured some more tea into you cup.You hadn’t realised how quickly you had drained the first - it certainly wasn’t the generic store brand teabags you had in the cupboard in your dingy flat, that was for sure. It was really, really damn good. You tried to mumble your thanks, but she just smiled and shook her head.

Feyre and Mor were chatting softly as you stirred in the milk, and battled with a sudden rush of confusion. They were being so nice to you, and you truly had no idea why. They apparently knew less about why you were here than you knew, had in no way have ever expected you - yet two of them were here the very next day, not knowing a thing about you, feeding you and offering smiles. You certainly knew you had done nothing to deserve it, they would’ve been better off saving themselves the trouble and sending you away. They looked about ready to kill you yesterday, you couldn’t help but wish they had, wondered if you’d finally be with Bri again.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?” You looked up to see both Feyre and Mor watching you closely. You weren’t even sure which of them had spoken. They glanced at each other.

“Would you like some more fruit?” Feyre asked softly, apparently not for the first time. You shook your head, but took a small sip of tea. It was cooler than you expected - you realised you had no idea how long you were zoned put for.

“You can meet the others later, if you’d like. Everyone’s eager to talk to you.” A small pause, but you nodded and tried for another smile. Almost.

Morrigan chimed in, “You don’t have to, obviously, and you absolutely mustn’t let them bore you. Cauldron knows what they find to talk about all day - all training and tactics and nothing the least bit interesting.” You didn’t respond, but Feyre laughed. You still couldn’t figure out how they could be graceful even when laughing.

“Already insulting us and it’s not even lunch time. I’m impressed, Mor.”

You couldn’t help but flinch, caught completely off guard by the new voice. Feyre and Mor exchanged a glance.

“It’s a talent. Do you know what a talent is, Cass?” She cooed a response, making Feyre snort. You shifted in your seat.

The man - Cassian, evidently - walked so he stood behind Mor and placed his hands on her shoulders. “All too well, my friend.” He grinned towards you, as if you were in on the joke. “It’s nice to meet you again. (Y/n), isn’t it?”

You glanced at Feyre, then braved a small nod. Feyre, bless her, saved you from answering.

“(Y/n), this is Cassian. He’s the commander of our Armies.” His smile didn’t waver. You had planned to look away, making a very conscious decision to not focus too much on the second part of that introduction, but your gaze snagged on something over his shoulder. Two somethings. His wings.

You had seen them last night, of course, and they looked impressive then, but now, in the open sunlight…

They were gorgeous. You almost couldn’t tear your eyes away, definitely didn’t want to, but you didn’t know if it would be rude to stare. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to insult anyone. Feyre jumped in before the silence could grow to be awkward. “I’m surprised to see you awake before noon. I take it the lie-in didn’t go ahead as planned?”

Cassian chuckled a reply, “Nesta didn’t let me. Threatened to drag me out of bed by the balls if I made her late again.”

“Good for her.” Morrigan huffed a laugh as Cassian slid into the seat opposite Feyre on Mor’s other side. He watched as you took a sip of the rapidly-cooling tea, seemed to be trying to size you up. Not that there was much of you to size up. It wasn’t as cold as last night’s assessment, instead now tinged with a curiosity. No, last night he appeared ready to kill, and you realised with far too little unease that where you should be feeling fear, there was nothing but your own sort of morbid curiosity.

Mor asked, as if to distract him, “Do you know where the others are?”

His eyes didn’t leave you. “They were out all night trying to figure out some stuff. They’re going to be here in a bit. They have some things they want to ask you.”

You froze. Could only imagine the kind of questions. You were already convinced they were going to kick you out the door the second they found out what you had done, you had only hoped you had a few more hours to prepare yourself to talk.

Feyre cursed from beside you. “I’d wanted to do this later, at least after she’d settled in a bit.” It was aimed at Cassian, who only shrugged. She turned back to you, and studied your face briefly, Morrigan and Cassian doing the same. You wondered distantly if you looked as empty as you felt.

“Would you be alright talking to them? They’re trying to figure out how to get you home, they only want to help you.”

You nodded but made no response, and looked down at your forgotten plate of food. Decided you no longer had an appetite. You took another sip of now-cold tea and made your throat work again. “It’s ok. I guessed they’d probably want to meet me. I’m sorry,” you swallowed, “it must be as weird for you as it is for me.”

Feyre’s eyebrows pulled together. “You don’t have to apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for.” You weren’t sure you believed her there, but she continued before the thought could grow. “You’re in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, with no idea how you got here. That’s more than enough to overwhelm anyone, frankly you’re holding up remarkably well.”

You looked up from your plate to see Morrigan and Cassian nodding, the latter, for the first time since last night, had a serious and thoughtful look on his face. Feyre reached forward and tapped your teacup, and steam began to rise once again. You stared at it.

“How did you do that?” Your voice sounded strained even to you.

Feyre gave something between a smile and a cringe, “Magic.”

Oh, of course. Why not. How fun.

The silence stretched for a few minutes - you staring at the teacup, the others staring at you - only broken the Feyre sat upright suddenly.

“Would you like the meet the others now? They’re outside the room, but won’t come in if you don’t want them to.” A pause, and a sniff, “Unlike some.”

Cassian shot her a smirk.

You stiffened. These last two… Rhysand, with the mind-reading. And Azriel, the one with the shadows.

You didn’t quite know how much more interaction you could take, this was by far the most you’d had in weeks. Not least with new people. With wings and pointy ears. Who could make tea hot by tapping it. And had the biggest swords you’d ever seen.

Yep, this was fine. Just fucking fine.

Not wanting to be rude, you made yourself nod.

Feyre studied you for a moment, before returning your nod. You didn’t even hear the door open, and if the others hadn’t turned to greet them as they entered you weren’t sure you would’ve been aware of any entry at all.

You didn’t know who to look at first - they both commanded your attention in wholly different ways. Rhysand - you remembered him from last night - had an air of absolute power. He had his hands in his pockets, by all accounts looking relaxed, but he held himself with the grace of someone who knew exactly how powerful they were. He could do whatever he wanted. You weren’t sure you liked it.

On his right hand side, Azriel. He, too, was obviously powerful, and you realised you weren’t hallucinating the shadows last night - indeed, they seemed to swirl around him, occasionally reaching up and curling over his shoulder, or his ear. That wasn’t what dragged your attention though, no.

Azriel was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in all your years of living. Or whatever it was you were doing now.

His eyes met yours, and you snapped your focus back to Rhysand as they both came to a halt a few steps away from the table.

Feyre looked between the three of you as she made the introductions. “This is Rhysand, my husband and High-Lord of the Nightcourt, and Azriel, our Spymaster. Rhys, Az, This is (y/n).”

High-lord. Nightcourt. Spymaster. Well, didn’t that sound fun.

You had no idea what the fuck that meant.

You realised they were watching you, waiting for something. You cleared your throat again.

“Uh- hello.” Wow, very eloquent. You tried again. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The corner of Azriel’s mouth quirked up, and Rhysand’s eyebrows raised. Ok, apparently lying was off the table. Not that you really wanted to lie to people who had fucking swords and magic.

Morrigan coughed, and Rhys stepped forward. Cassian looked to be trying not to laugh.

“The pleasure’s mine. I trust your room was comfortable?”

You could feel a tension headache coming on. You ignored it and tried to answer Rhys’s question.

You couldn’t speak, so nodded instead. He glanced at Feyre, and Az stepped forward, around the table. He offered you his hand.

“Hello, thank you for agreeing to see us. I understand this must be a lot.”

He spoke softly, his voice smooth and low. And cool. Not cold, or rude, but perhaps cool in the way fresh bedsheets are cool. You couldn't decipher his expression - couldn't read his face at all, actually. You were caught off-guard, but clumsily raised your hand to shake his. They were calloused, and you could feel the immense strength in his gentle grip, and you were grateful when Feyre spoke to you so you didn’t have to think about that when you let go.

“Azriel is the only one of us with any manners. The rest of this lot are barbarians by comparison.”

Cries of complaint by Morrigan and Cassian, but when you saw Az’s faint smile you decided it was safe enough to risk your own small one. Not that it worked.

Rhysand chuckled, and he and Az moved to sit at the table. Azriel took the seat next to Cassian, opposite you, and Rhysand took the seat next to him. Their movements were more precise and graceful than anything you could remember seeing. You realised they all sat where they could best see your face.

You swallowed, wondered if this is what a mouse felt like in the presence of cats. Or maybe wolves.

“Have we done eating?” Rhys looked expectantly at everyone, and while Cassian grumbled slightly, no one said otherwise. He waved a hand and the food, plates, everything - except your tea - just… vanished. Into thin air.

You felt yourself go pale. A small voice at the back of your head told you he should do the same to you. You wondered if it would hurt. Realised you wouldn’t mind if it did.

You didn’t want to shake your head and look insane, so you looked away from the table for something else to focus on. Anything. Your eyes landed on wings again - Azriel’s, this time.

The same as Cassian’s. A stray ray of sun caught on them and you couldn’t help but marvel at the veins of red and gold that ran through them. You blinked when you realise you had been staring again, and tore your gaze away only for it to land on his face. Yep, he definitely saw you staring.

You dropped your eyes to his hands instead. The blue gems were still there, sat on some sort of gauntlet that stretched under his sleeves. His hands were scarred, the skin twisting in a way you hadn’t noticed before.

Hey, you had that in common.

They stilled, and the shadows seemed to tighten around them, and you realised he was still watching you watching him, so you just looked at your teacup instead. He was good at watching things, you didn’t need to talk to him to know that. What Feyre had introduced him as - Spymaster - made sense. You had a feeling he was noting every one of your movements, words, breaths. Had a feeling the others were doing the same.

This silence was more awkward than the previous one, and you think Feyre might have been trying to catch your eyes, which you kept firmly angling downwards to avoid more eye contact with Azriel.

Rhysand, eventually, cleared his throat. “We need to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.” This felt unnervingly familiar. “Azriel and I have been trying to work out how you… appeared. By all accounts it should be impossible, this place is warded against winnowing, and unless you flew or climbed the 10,000 stairs, there is no way in. Something tells me you didn’t do either of those.”

You could feel them take in your appearance again.

Warded, winnowing, flying, 10,000 fucking stairs. You didn’t let yourself think about what any of that meant. Didn’t need them to prove this wasn’t possible - you knew that well enough already.

Rhys continued, “I checked the wards myself last night, and they’re all just as intact as they’ve ever been. So, what I want to know, is how you did it. I know you don’t know, so let’s just start at the beginning. Your name is (y/n), correct?”

You nodded, and by some miracle managed to say, “(y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Great, thank you. How old are you?”

Yep, the interrogation has started. “Nineteen. Nearly twenty.”

Someone sucked in a breath, and you think Morrigan and Feyre exchanged a glance. Rhys’s gaze shifted to Feyre then back to you within a heartbeat.

“You’re human?”

Okay, not quite like the police interviews. “Uh, yeah?”

“Where are you from?”

“Norwich.” A few confused looks. This didn’t surprise you - it was a small city. You clarified, “A couple of hours from London. In the east of England.” Their confusion didn’t shift.

“Where is… England?”

You raised your eyebrows, and tried to study their faces to see if they were joking. While the mountains suggested you weren’t anywhere near Norfolk, their accents were similar enough to yours that you could have assumed they were from near you. Maybe the highlands, or something.

“Uh, Europe?” You tried. A few head shakes. “Across the Atlantic from America?” More head shakes.

Oh, okay. Yep. This was fine. You think you began shaking. Where the hell were you?

No one said anything, just looked as if you had grown a second head. You went to sip your tea to try and gather yourself, but saw your hand was shaking so hard you just put it back on your lap without even attempting to lift the cup. You know the others saw.

“Do you know where you are now?” The question came from Azriel, in a voice that sounded too much like a voice you’d use to soothe a crying toddler, or someone stood on a ledge. Huh.

_Planet Earth. On the 4th planet from the sun. The Milky Way._

You shook your head.

It definitely didn’t help when Rhysand said in response, “You’re in Prythian.”

It may have been a while since you took geography, but you remembered enough to know you had definitely never heard of that before. You took a deep breath.

“Okay. Uh, where, sorry?”

“Prythian. In the Night Court, specifically.” Well, that clears things up. “I’m going to assume you’ll be about as familiar with any place I could list as we are with the ones you named.”

That was a fair assumption. You wanted to go to bed, and the tension headache was barreling towards you like a freight train. “I’m sorry.” Your throat was starting to hurt, as well. You managed a sip of tea this time. Feyre placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t be.” Rhysand said. “Though, if I can ask, where did you think you were?”

“Until this morning I thought this was heaven. Or some other sort of afterlife.Then Feyre- then I thought I was dreaming, but it doesn’t feel like a dream, and I’m still not convinced I’m not hallucinating. I just assumed I was somewhere… else. I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought.”

A few seconds of silence, then, “Why did you think this was the afterlife?” It was Azriel’s voice. You looked at the table so you didn’t have to see their pity, or judgement, or whatever. Really, really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Because I should be dead.”

“Why?”

When you didn’t answer, Feyre’s hand moved to grip yours. “We aren’t here to judge you, we just need to know in case it tells us anything about how you got here.” You studied her hand against yours as you forced your voice to work.

“I jumped off a bridge.”

Another quick moment of quiet, before Rhysand said “And you… woke up here?”

You shook your head. You were so, so tired. “More like landed. Except I didn’t fall, so didn’t technically land. My feet never left the ground.” You forced yourself to remember the moment. “I felt like… like I was falling, vertigo and everything, but I didn’t actually fall. I just felt the air change, and I opened my eyes and I saw the mountains and the stars. And it was so beautiful that I thought it must be heaven.” You wondered if you should be crying.

You risked a glance upwards, towards the three men opposite you, to see them looking as confused as you felt.

“Was there anything in the moments before? Did you say anything, or feel any sort of… energy? Power?”

You shook your head, had absolutely no idea what Rhysand was getting at. “No, I jus-“ with a jolt, you remembered the piece of paper. With the sigil. You had felt sure - so sure last night that this had been the star’s answer. That they had sent you here.

You realised you were being watched with piqued interest, and while you were sure they’d think you insane, you knew that they could read your reactions well enough to realise you had thought of something.

“Just before, I felt so… calm. Euphoric. I remember looking at the sky, and normally there’s too much light pollution to see them but the stars were brighter than I’d ever seen, and I just felt so,” you struggled to find the right words, “It was like they were… calling to me. I knew they’d keep me safe. It was the first time in months I had actually felt anything, and I don’t even know exactly what I felt - it was..."

You paused to take a breath, and swallowed. "I just wished for something, so so hard, and I had no idea what I was wishing for but I could feel it so deeply. And I drew something, because I felt like I had to, and I put everything I had into it, and when it was done I put it in my pocket, and it was like the stars were watching me, so I made one last wish and I just… jumped. And then I was here.” Your voice had trailed off into near nothingness by the end, but you knew they could all still hear you. Were turning over every word. You just hoped they wouldn’t ask why you tried to kill yourself. You were definitely not going to get into that with them. Had more than enough of people asking about it.

You didn’t tell them that you had tried to ask the stars last night why you were here, or that you were sure that while you were in your own head staring at your sigil, one had stayed outside your window to keep you company. Thinking about that now you were pretty sure that was a hallucination.

Rhysand eventually spoke again, looking at you with an intense focus. “And you now understand that this isn’t death?” You glanced at Feyre’s stomach, as if to remind yourself, and nodded. Your palms became clammy, one of them still grasped by Feyre.

“This… note. Do you still have it? Can we see it?”

You nodded again, so much speaking beginning to take its toll on you. A few months ago you could have talked and talked and talked until the end of the world, and Bri often complained that you were going to talk her ear right off one day. You missed her so fiercely you thought you might cleave in two all over again.

A nudge from Feyre had you blinking, realising you had zoned out again, and a glance back up showed the three men watching you with near matching expressions. You tried to speak again.

“Yes, sorry I, uh, I think it’s in my bag, in the room. Would you li-“ you were going to offer to go and get it, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t completely relieved when Rhysand waved a hand and it dropped onto the table in front of you. Right, you reminded yourself. Magic. Making shit disappear. This was… fine.

You think you made a small noise, because Cassian shot you a sympathetic glance over the top of the bag.

You squeezed Feyre’s hand, before letting it go to rummage through the bag. You hoped the bag would hide that they’d started to shake again, but one look at Azriel and knew there was no chance of that.

You found the note next to the picture of your family, which you kept firmly tucked inside. You unfolded it, and studied it once more - to find what you weren’t sure. Another wave of Rhysand’s hand had the bag vanishing - you hoped back to where it had been before. You placed the note in the middle of the table, face up.

All heads tilted to better read what you had written.

“The stars will take me to you. The stars will keep me safe.” Rhysand’s voice was so soft you had barely heard him as he read out your soul to the table. He reached forward, gesturing to the paper. “May I?”

You nodded, and he picked it up, studied the roughly drawn sigil from all angles. Azriel peered over his shoulder to also look.

“Have you ever drawn anything like this before?”

You began to nod before catching yourself.

“Yes, but… no. Not like that. This one felt different.” It was all you offered, and was met with silence. “Does this- does it mean anything? Does it help you?”

Rhysand put the note on the table, and dragged a hand over his face. You wondered if he had got about as much sleep as you. “I don’t know. I want some others to study it, if that’s alright with you. Amren, for one, may remember something that can help us.” The third time Amren was mentioned. “It’s interesting though…”

You looked at him, while he stared at the note. At the writing. He took a second before continuing.

“You’ve talked about the stars, said it was like they were calling to you, is that right?”

You nodded, not hiding your confusion. He carried on.

“Here, the stars are… important to us. We’re a Solar Court, like the Day and the Dawn courts. And while they each have, as I’m sure you can infer, some exquisite days and dawns, our nights are quite spectacular. Some in these lands wake up at dusk and sleep at dawn just so they can live under the starlight.” You got the impression there was more left unsaid about stars, but you didn’t press. He mused, “perhaps the stars did have something to do with this.”

Okay, at least you weren’t the only insane one.

But instead of looking incredulous, or doubtful, the others all appeared thoughtful, as if indeed he may be onto something.

“To the stars that listen—“

“—and the dreams that are answered.”

You almost missed the exchange entirely, it was so quiet. Rhysand and Feyre were staring at each other intently, as if they should be in discussion. And you wondered-

Feyre had turned last night at the same time as Rhysand. When you thought about mind-readers. And if they could both read minds, and read each other’s minds, then they very well could’ve been having a full fledged conversation. You weren’t sure you liked that. Weren’t sure you liked any of this. What had they said last night - Fairies? Fae? With pointy ears and wings and magic fucking powers. If the stars really had sent you here, and if, _if_ this was some sort of alternate reality where these things actually existed, why send you here? Why not just make you jump back in time or some other country or something? If these people - fae, whatever, were to be believed, and you weren’t dead, and they are real, why send you to them? How? Sure, you always loved the idea of magic; you were a fierce believer in the tooth fairy until a frankly embarrassing age, and went through a witchy phase in your early teenage years that you don’t think you ever actually grew out of properly (hence the sigils), but this? You found yourself regretting stepping in every mushroom circle you ever found.

You used to dance around them with Bri, joke about being pulled away to some magical land where the handsome fairy prince, or queen, or whatever would make you their bride.

Except you lost this wish a long time ago. At the same moment you lost everything.

Something waving in front of your face snapped you back to the table, and you blinked away the burn in your eyes as you reoriented yourself. Zoned out, yet again.

Cassian drew his hand back from where he had been trying to get your attention.

“There we are. Did you catch that?”

You glanced around only to find Azriel was no longer present, and Rhysand and Feyre were talking softly at one end of the table. You dragged your eyes back to Cassian, and for just a moment you thought you didn’t have enough in you to even shake your head.You forced yourself to anyway.

“Sorry.”

He and Morrigan exchanged a look you didn’t have the energy to decipher. Mor continued, “It’s alright, don’t be sorry. Az has gone to ask some of his contacts if they know anything which may help you, he should be able to find something.” She glanced towards Rhysand and Feyre. “Those two are planning what to do next. You can stay here until something is decided, or someone figures out how to get you home. In the meantime, would you like anything else? Some more food?”

You shook your head again, headache in full swing and throat hurting almost as much. You weren’t sure - couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. You forced yourself to speak one last time.

“I’d like to go back to my room, please.” It wasn’t your room, though. You didn’t belong here. Feyre and Rhysand looked over when you spoke, shooting each other a final glance before Feyre glided over to you, and Rhysand made his way over to stand behind Cassian’s seat.

“Of course, I’ll take you there now.” You were too exhausted to worry about bruised pride as you let her help you stand, a hand on your elbow guiding you towards the stairs. You didn’t turn back to the others as you left. Thought perhaps you should offer a thanks, or a good day, but you didn’t. All you could think about was climbing into a bed and never climbing out.

Neither you nor Feyre spoke as she led you back through the hallway, and you weren’t sure if you had spaced again or if the walk was a lot shorter than you realised, but you were outside the door before you had expected. Feyre stood to the side as you opened the door and stepped inside, everything identical to how you had left it - including the bag. You turned to where she stood by the door.

“Thank you. I… thank you.”

She shook her head. “You don’t owe me thanks. Would you like anything else? Some more tea?” You shook yours. “Okay. I’ll come and check on you later. Someone will be around the entire day if you’d like some company, and you’re free to go anywhere you’d like if you need to stretch your legs. Just call if you need anything at all, okay?”

You wondered again why she was being so nice to you, but the thought dissipated before it could solidify. Bed, sleep, now. You nodded one last time, and Feyre bid you good bye, and you didn’t even bother to change your clothes as you at last crawled into the oversized bed.

You didn’t note how soft it was, or how comfortable.

You climbed in, and didn’t get out for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed chapter 4! Sorry if there were any obvious mistakes or places with particularly rough writing, this week has absolutely drained me and I did not have that much energy for editing or proofreading.  
> I'm currently trying to write chapter 5, and while I'd love to post that this time next week, I am also notoriously unreliable and tend to drop off the radar at random so no promises from me ;)  
> As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you're staying healthy and safe, I'll see you soon :)  
> \- arrow xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm so sorry for dropping off the grid and making you worry, I've had a ridiculously stressful week with uni work, and a few deadlines I forgot existed. This chapter, while not the same length as the last, is probably going to be about the average length of most future chapters.  
> I hope you enjoy, be sure to check the notes at the end!

The light was fading as you awoke to a soft knocking at the door.

You sat up, trying to reorientate yourself as for a small moment you didn’t recognise where you were, until everything came rushing back in a flood. You realised your head no longer hurt.

The knock sounded again, followed by a soft voice. Feyre’s. Asking if you were alright.

You thought getting out of bed would be impossible, but you made yourself do it anyway. You stumbled to the door and leant against it as you opened it.

Feyre took in your appearance with a tight mouth, and her eyes were creased in something you didn’t bother trying to place. A small voice said she looked worried. You beat it back under the fog.

“We’ll be eating dinner in a little bit, if you’d like to join us?”

You tried to say yes, you really did. You had been rude enough as it is, but the thought of more talking, of more interaction…

You opened and closed your mouth, but eventually managed an “I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay.”

You thought she’d be annoyed, but she nodded and offered a small smile. “Of course, I’ll bring you some food down here.” She began to step away, but then seemed to think of something else. She turned back to you and some carefully. “You did well, earlier. With the questions. I understand how exhausting, and stressful it must be for you. The others do, as well. You don’t need to feel bad if you aren’t up to seeing anyone. I know it can be a lot of effort.” You couldn’t meet her eyes, just gave a nod. She seemed to hesitate a moment longer, before adding softly, “I’ll go and get your food.”

You didn’t know whether or not to wait by the door, or climb back into bed, so you just left the door open as you wandered to the window. You turned sharply away, though, when you noticed the first stars were beginning to appear. Didn’t want to think about the stars.

You wandered over to the dressing table that sat against one wall, but half a glance at yourself in the mirror had you realising you didn’t want to look at _that_ , either. So, you sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at nothing.

Despite the open door, you didn’t hear Feyre’s footsteps as she came back with the food. You were only aware she was back at all when she knocked softly on the door as she stepped in with the tray. An echo of a thought had you remembering how you felt this morning - like a mouse surrounded by cats.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I gave you a bit of everything.” She handed you the tray, and you placed it on your lap as the smell wafted up to meet your face. You realised you couldn’t remember the last time you had a full warm meal.

“Thank you.” You managed to mumble over the steam.

She smiled, and began to head back to the door.

“I hope you enjoy. And sleep well.” You managed to return her smile as the aromas made your mouth water and stomach clench. She began to close the door, but opened it again as another thought struck her. “Nuala and Cerridwen will be by to help you get ready in the morning. They’re lovely, and don’t speak much, so don’t worry about that. We hopefully should have some more answers for you tomorrow.” The last part seemed almost more to be more for her than you, but you forced the smile to stay as you thanked her again, and told her to sleep well as she did you. She returned the thanks, and shut the door behind her.

The food, while truly delicious (and most of it familiar), went largely untouched - as you realised after a few mouthfuls how little you had eaten recently. You were full after just a few bites.

You didn’t know what to do with the tray, but you moved the cup of water to the small table next to the bed, and put the tray on the dressing table. You avoided looking in the mirror again.

Instead, you just climbed back into bed.

And didn’t stir until morning.

~

It was another knock that woke you up, this time the light rising and casting the room in a pale blue hue. Soft voices trailed in behind it, announcing themselves as Nuala and Cerridwen.

Leaving the bed was even harder the second time.

Feet dragging, you reached the door, and peaked out. Two girls were stood there, both very pretty, waiting expectantly.

“Good morning, I’m Nuala, this is Cerridwen. Can we help you get ready?”

You blinked at them for a second, brain not yet fully caught up, but eventually managed to nod and step aside to let them in.

They both set to work, and you could only watch as one went straight for the dresser, and the other to the bathroom. Right, bathroom - you needed to pee.

The one by the dresser picked up the tray with your food from last night, and you couldn’t suppress a cringe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to put it—“ she waved you off, and the other came from the bathroom.

“Can you wash yourself? She asked it gently, and it sounded too genuine to be patronising. You nodded, glad for the privacy. As you entered the room, however, you were faced with vials and jars and bars with absolutely no clue what to use. You made to turn, but one of the girls was already next to you with a soft smile on her face. She told you which to use for your hair and which for your body, and the various scents, and said to take as much time as you wanted. You tried to thank her but she, like her… sister? shrugged you off with a shake of her head, and headed back into the main room.

You relieved yourself, and found yourself grateful that whatever weird time period you were in, they at least had indoor plumbing. You didn’t think they had electricity - hadn’t seen a single plug socket or light switch the entire time so far. But indoor plumbing was a plus.

You sank into the warm water, and didn’t want to move ever again.

You made yourself move, though, you didn’t want to keep Nuala and Cerridwen waiting.

Not that you knew which was which.

You washed yourself, and felt an inkling of pride that you were being more productive with yourself than you had been for a long while. It disappeared when you remembered that people were helping you get ready, though you couldn’t pretend you weren’t glad you didn’t have to put so much effort in yourself. You weren’t sure how much you had to spare today, already thinking of climbing back into bed and never getting out.

You chose soaps that smelled faintly of lavender, and inhaled the aromatic steam as deeply as you could. You needed all the calming you could get. You finished washing and rinsing and climbed out of the bath. Drying your skin quickly, you left your hair to air dry and wrapped the robe which hung on the door around yourself as tight as possible, and shuffled into the bedroom.

The tray was gone, and the bed was made with fresh clothes lying on it. They were different from the ones you wore yesterday, and a lot more familiar - a soft looking jumper with dark leggings and thick, creamy coloured socks. One of the girls was no where to be seen, but the other one left you to dress in private while she went to drain the water from the bath.

God, you thought the clothes yesterday were comfortable. If you were still wondering whether or not you were in heaven, the clothes would convince you.

You freed your hair from the ridiculously lovely jumper, fully intending to let it dry in the same tangled mess as yesterday, but when the girl left the bathroom again she headed straight for the dressing table, and gestured for you to sit.

You did, and couldn’t stop your eyes as they moved automatically towards the mirror.

You were met with the face of a ghost.

_Pathetic. Weak. Lazy._

_Guilty._

You could practically see the words etched into your skin, floating around your head, pooling in your eyes. You turned and kept your focus deliberately on a small marking on the wood next to the glass.

You weren’t sure what the girl noticed, or made of it, but she shifted the mirror so it angled away from you. You murmured a soft thank you as she began to comb through your hair.

She worked in silence, and managed to get through the tangles faster than you would’ve thought possible, leaving your hair in a simple French plait down your back.

You supposed they wouldn’t call it a ‘French’ plait.

You tried to thank her again, but she didn’t accept it, and instead just told you that breakfast would be ready soon, and the others would be there.

Then she simply vanished.

In a puff of smoke.

God, you wanted to go to bed.

You didn’t, though, and decided to brave the trek to breakfast.

~

Despite having been deep in daydreams every time you had walked to or from the room from breakfast, you managed to find it by yourself fairly easily. Unlike what Cerridwen (or was it Nuala?) had promised, it was empty - the only movement the curtains billowing on some intangible breeze as they do in your room. You hesitated for a couple of seconds on the outskirts of the room, not entirely sure what to do, before deciding to venture onto the balcony, to maybe see the mountains in daylight.

No sooner than you had taken a step in the direction of one of the open doors, however, did you hear the beating of massive wings, and Azriel landed with more grace than should be possible.

Even from the distance between you, you noticed a shadow curl around his ear as he turned to you, his totally unreadable face offering you a small smile. The shadows seemed to evaporate as he walked towards you, carefully, as if trying not to spook. You simply watched as he closed the space, not entirely sure what to do with your arms, face, anything. Felt rather like a deer caught in headlights.

He stopped a healthy distance away, the open smile still on his face.

“Did you sleep well?” Was all he asked, his voice soft.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nodded instead. You tried to return his smile, though. They all had such lovely voices, you didn’t think they’d mind not hearing yours.

You became all too aware, while trying to avoid his face, that you were alone.

You tried not to flinch when he moved, you really did. He didn’t move to you though - he went to sit at the table, where Cassian had sat the morning before. You had no doubt he noticed you react, had the same feeling as yesterday that he was aware of your every breath. He gestured for you to sit, but you just stared at the empty chair opposite him.

Alone. With a strange guy. In a strange place, with no idea where you are, or where anyone else is.

“Feyre and the others will be here soon, they just had a few things they needed to sort out.”

Again, with the soft voice.

You tried to make yourself move. He wasn’t like… he was different. Completely different. The opposite, really. You let your eyes drift to his hair as you finally convinced yourself to sit, let them wander around his face, focus on his eyes. Hazel, he had hazel eyes. Not blue. They were kind, held a warmth that…

They were different.

You sat. Dropped your gaze to his hands, instead, where he kept them rested on the table. Where you could see them clearly. They were beautiful, you decided. You didn’t know what could’ve caused the swirls and marrings, but there was such a raw beauty in them, in all of him. In all of them, really. You watched as shadows gathered around them, before retreating, eddying like the sea. You lifted your eyes again to his face, not wanting to seem rude by staring. He was watching you, you think with almost a faint amusement. He lifted an eyebrow, as if in a challenge. Daring a question. How he knew you had one you weren’t sure, but you managed to speak regardless.

“What are the blue gems for?”

The leather gauntlets they were both sat on stretched under the sleeves of his shirt, but when he chuckled and tapped on one the leather spread to encompass his arm.

“They’re called Siphons, Illyrians use them to channel some of our power.”

Of course, more magic. “What— um, sorry, Illyrian?”

“We’re a race of warrior fae, from deep within the Illyrian mountain range,” he tapped it again, and the leather disappeared. He brought a hand up to sweep some hair behind his ear, and you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice before, but it was just a normal ear. Not pointed like Feyre’s. “It’s why Cassian and I have wings, we aren’t High Fae like the others are.”

Yep, you were going to get another headache. You frowned. “You all have… magic?”

He nodded. “Different sorts, but yes.” He seemed to consider his next question. “Do you not have magic where you’re from?”

You began to shake your head, then paused to consider, then shook it again. “Not in this sense. A few people believe in certain types of magic, but this…type of magic? It’s just fairytales for children.”

He studied you for a moment. “It must be a lot, then. To be suddenly surrounded by what should be fiction.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched the table between you. It was a lot, he was right. Too much. You could feel the bed beckoning you back.

You didn’t want to sit in silence again - this time there was no tea to distract you.

You opened your mouth to ask something else - whether about the shadows or something else you weren’t entirely sure - when a soft thud caught your attention. You looked towards the balcony to see Feyre and Rhys had landed, Feyre’s wings fading into air as you watched. Was she part Illyrian, too? You remember she had mentioned learning to summon them, did she not know?

You supposed it wasn’t any of your business, you had no burning desire to ask. Or to do anything, for that matter.

They both smiled when they saw you, and you wondered if you had only heard them land because they wanted you to.

“Sorry we’re a little later than expected, business dragged on longer than it needed.” Rhysand didn’t have wings, you noticed. Or at least none that you saw. You wondered if he flew a different way - or had climbed the 10,000 apparent stairs. You weren’t sure if they were serious about that.

From behind them on the balcony Cassian landed, and set down Morrigan from where he had been carrying her. They both gave you wide grins as they followed Feyre and Rhysand to the table. Feyre claimed the seat next to you again, Rhysand on her other side. At least you didn’t feel as scrutinised as last time.

“Did you sleep well?” Feyre asked as she tucked her chair further under. You nodded and managed a small thanks, to which she beamed. Cassian strutted in and aimed for the seat next to Azriel, though gave it up for the one along from it with a grumble as Morrigan got there first.

“We missed you last night at dinner.” It was Cassian, having tucked his chair under while still shooting small glares towards Mor. You didn’t know how to respond.

“Sorry.”

He looked up at you in surprise. “Oh, don’t be sorry about it. Are you feeling better?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, either. So you nodded.

You saw Rhysand wave a hand from the corner of your eye, and a breakfast platter similar to yesterday’s appeared on the table. You definitely were not going to get used to that. You glanced up to see Azriel looking at you in understanding. As if it were an inside joke, or a secret you both shared. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and focused again on the table.

The others had begun piling food onto their plates, and after watching Azriel reach across Morrigan to reach a fruit you didn’t quite recognise, you risked reaching for the same pastry you had yesterday morning. Whether by some remorseful fate or mere coincidence, it was close enough to your plate you were able to avoid reaching across anyone.

Feyre poured you a cup of tea as she did yesterday, and while you were stirring in the milk, she began loading your plate with other pastries and fruits.

Cassian and Morrigan fell into a comfortable, quiet chatter, to which Feyre and Rhysand occasionally contributed. You didn’t make the effort to tune in to what they were saying, and sank into your own world while picking at the food. You were half proud when you managed half a croissant-thing, but your stomach clenching made you sip your tea. You were glad that the tea, at least, was familiar.

It caught you completely off guard when Feyre turned to you, and asked softly “what about you?”

“I’m, sorry?”

When she realised you hadn’t heard the conversation, she flashed a brief glance towards Azriel, who you think had been watching you the entire time.

“What do you do? Do you have a job?”

You winced at the memory flashing through you - the crushing guilt and weight of avoided responsibilities. You shook your head.

“I’m a student. At university.”

“What’s a university?” The question was Cassian’s.

“Oh, they had them in the human lands I think. It’s like a school, isn’t it?” Feyre tilted her head in question.

You nodded, “Similar. People go after they finish school if they want to specialise in a certain subject. I’m in my second year.” You frowned. Was? Are? Were you still? You had no idea.

Rhysand reached for some more fruit. “Fascinating. What are you specialising in?”

You were pretty sure he was distracting you, but you answered anyway.

“Literature and Drama. Books and theatre, basically.”

“That’s a whole lot of fiction.”

You glanced sharply up at Azriel, who watched you with what you think was a very faint amusement.A joke.

You wondered if you would’ve been able to laugh once.

The others were looking between the two of you, and you were glad when Morrigan jumped in, even if it meant more speaking.

“So, theatre? Do you act?”

“Ye- uh, I used to. I haven’t done it for a while.” Since before everything happened. You slammed a door shut on that thought.

“Did you enjoy it?” Feyre refilled her tea, then yours.

You knew you’d normally smile at this, but even you could feel no passion behind the words. “I always loved it. I’ve been taking lessons since I was about 8.” You shrugged, “I just sort of… fell into it.”

“And your family? Do they act?”

The question clanged though you.

Family.

You forced your voice to work. “They, uh, no. They don’t.”

The silence stretched for a moment, until Rhysand asked, “What are they like?”

You took a sip of tea. “Wonderful.” You weren't sure what prompted you on. Perhaps a desperation to avoid more questions, or perhaps some deeper need to speak about them, so you continued, “my dad used to work a lot. We were pretty poor while I was growing up. Could barely afford food at one point.” You really didn’t know why you were telling them this, but everyone was watching you as if hanging on every word, Cassian and Feyre nodding as if they understood. You set your eyes on your teacup as you continued, “my parents always made sure me and my brother had food on our plate, even if it meant they went hungry. My brother and I used to try and sneak extra food on their plates when they weren’t looking. We didn’t find out until years later that they knew the entire time and put it right back on ours when we were distracted.”

You felt yourself soften at the memory, let your own words lull you back to childhood. Back when everything was going to be alright.

“And then my dad started his own company - he was an engineer - and things completely changed. He managed to make enough money to buy a beautiful house and send me to university, and wanted to send my brother when he was old enough as well.” That, of course, never happened. And now you were left with money you didn’t want to touch and a house you could never again step foot inside. If you could ever figure out how to get back in the first place. At least here you didn’t have to face either of those. However, here, wherever ‘here’ was, didn’t have the one thing you wanted, needed, to find. Briana.

 _Briana_.

Cassian spoke when you didn't continue. “They sound lovely.”

An echo of a splinter traced a familiar scar in your heart, just as painful as the first time, maybe moreso. “They were.”

You felt, rather than saw, a stillness descend the table.

“I’m so sorry.” It was Feyre. She reached to clasp your hand as she did yesterday, a simple, comforting gesture. You shook your head, could hardly form new thoughts beyond those now calling out for your best friend.

_Briana._

Your eyes closed as a black, depthless pit of utter despair threatened to completely overwhelm you.

“Who’s… who is Briana?” The question was tentative, and you think Feyre was trying to distract you again. Trying to keep you talking. You didn’t want to think about how she knew her name. Mind-reading still freaked you out.

You let go of her hand to reach for your teacup, just to find your hand shaking beyond secrecy and your tea cold. Feyre tapped the cup as she did yesterday, and you inhaled the steam as you managed to avoid sloshing it everywhere. You took slow sip as you ordered your thoughts enough to speak. You could talk about this. You could talk about her - she deserved to be spoken about.

“She…” you cleared your throat, and tried again. “She was the reason I went to university.” You didn’t want to start there, so you backtracked. “We met at school, when we were 14. It was like… I’ve never met anyone like her. We were best friends by the end of the day, and did absolutely everything together for years. We used to joke that we were soulmates-but-as-friends, that we were from the same star and somehow found each other again.” You truly wondered why you weren’t crying.

“She used to write. She fell in love with a creative writing course at a university close to where we both already lived, and one day she dragged me along to an open day and showed me the theatre, and I fell in love as well. So we went to university together. She wanted to be an author. I think she would’ve been one of the greats.” And now she never would. Because you failed her. You failed. Failed.

Your eyes burned as they stayed focused on one point on the table, and you found yourself whispering your next words.

“I was supposed to be with her again, but now I’m here instead, and I don’t know why.”

You closed your eyes at last, wondered if you wished hard enough that shadows like Azriel’s would completely envelope you and you could just close your eyes and sleep and never ever wake up.

But you opened your eyes, and were met with unwavering daylight. You straightened your back and shoved everything down. Really wished you hadn’t said anything.

You risked glancing up, around you. Faces showing a myriad of compassion, pity, sympathy, and… understanding. Meeting Azriel’s eyes confirmed that, understanding read plainly on his unreadable face. You couldn’t bare it, had to look away. How the hell had breakfast gone down this fucking rabbit hole?

“I’m sorry.” You glanced to Feyre’s stomach, and your hand nearly lifted to your own. You didn’t want to cause her stress, or anything. She followed your gaze, but shook her head.

“Don’t apologise. You’ve been through a lot, and I know Briana would be so proud of you, wherever she is. She sounds wonderful.” You nodded, and after a brief pause, she continued.

“Did you know I used to be human?”

You looked up at her in surprise, once again grateful for her distractions, and shook your head.

And she told you her story, from living in poverty, to the spring court, to battling some creepy sounding lady under the mountain and meeting Rhysand. She told you of the growing tensions of war alongside her growing feelings for Rhysand, and the others began to chime in as they described various misadventures and it honestly sounded like a book. You were sure there were moments left out, or skimmed over, but you wouldn’t be surprised to read a similar plot in a random bookstore. All drama and magic and fairytales.

And perhaps they were just telling you to distract you, perhaps to show you they understand, but you found yourself hanging on every word as they shared their experiences. Clinging to every laugh and exchanged glance like a lifeline. And when they were done, you wondered if it were possible for you to reach this point, one day. If one day you could eat breakfast, and laugh, and cherish memories. If you could feel anything other than pain, or guilt, or nothing.

If you could forget how utterly you failed.

Breakfast passed slowly with all the conversation, and by the time the table was cleared and the tea was drained to its dregs, you were more than ready to crawl back in to bed and pretend the world didn’t exist. Before you got the chance, however, Rhysand commanded the attention of the table once more.

“I’ve just had confirmation from Amren that she’ll be visiting tonight,” he turned to you, “perhaps we’ll finally be able to get some answers about how you got here.”

How many times had Amren been mentioned now? She must know something, if they were so keen to see her. You realised they were waiting for something, perhaps an acknowledgement or an answer, so you gave them a nod, then sank further back into your chair.

The others began bombarding Rhysand with questions, all of which he answered with remarkable patience, (“no, she won't be bringing Varian, nor will she staying for very long, yes she’d probably like to go drinking with you, no, Cassian, she probably wont go dancing with you, considering what happened last time), and you wondered if you could finally escape back to bed. You were too exhausted to face anything, or anyone, new right now.

Cassian was the first to leave, apparently needing to oversee the training at some camp, Morrigan leaving with him for an unspecified reason, though the glance and nod she shot to Rhysand suggested something important. They each gave you a smile and a wave as they said their goodbyes, the latter promising to come by later to say hi before dinner.

You looked to your teacup, empty. You had no idea what time it was, though you really didn’t want to say anything else. Had overshared enough for one day.

You suppressed a cringe. Why on earth had you told them that? They didn’t need to know, and you were just keeping the focus on you. You couldn’t bare to consider what they probably thought of you, how selfish, and ungrateful - how while they were fighting in grand battles for their freedom you were laughing, and safe with family. Even if you no longer had that. Even if you had nothing.

“Would you like to see the library?”

You blinked up at Azriel, now stood behind his chair. It took a second for the words to register, during which his eyes slid to Feyre then back to you, though it was so fast you nearly missed it entirely. Feyre then jumped in before you could make up your mind.

“That’s a great idea, I think you’d love it in there.” She stood, and guided you to standing with a hand on your elbow. Library?

You looked between the two of them. As much as you wanted to just go back to bed, you had a feeling Feyre wouldn’t let you sleep the day away again. You nodded, too worn out to properly protest.

Azriel offered you his arm, like they do in period dramas. You stared at it for a second, uncertainties crawling back to nag at the corners of your mind.

Alone again. With a man. This time with no promised escape.

 _It's Azriel_ , You chided the voice. He didn’t seem so mean. His eyes were nice.

You couldn’t make yourself take his arm, though. Not that close to him. Not alone.

You think he saw that on your face, and with a perfectly neutral expression, lowered his arm instead in a gesture to follow.

You shot a backwards glance towards Feyre, who was nodding in encouragement.

You took a deep breath as you turned back, and let Azriel lead you towards the door, into the hallway beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! I'm excited for Az and reader to finally spend some time together :)  
> I might start updating every two weeks - after this chapter I've only written a few scenes here and there, and so I think I'd need to give myself some more time with constructing the story. While I don't want to keep you guys all waiting for that long between updates, I also want to make sure the story is good enough! I really appreciate everyone reading and I know how frustrating it is when stories start to drop in quality!  
> Sorry the last part of the chapter seems so rushed as well, along with everything I've had such bad writers block - having to write several scenes a week for a scriptwriting class is making writing for fun seem more like a chore 🙄I think I'm starting to figure out a balance, though, so it should be fine - I just really can't wait until the easter holidays! :)  
> I hope you're all well and staying safe, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your comments and concern. I'm sending my love and good vibes to you all <3  
> I'll see you soon, Arrow xx


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